


Haunted

by TheRedWulf



Series: Stansa One Shots [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Duke!Stannis, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gothic, Porn With Plot, Smut, Victorian, haunted, plot holes, stansa, victorian gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Victorian - In which the famed ‘Keeper of Ghosts’ finds a woman who wants nothing more than for spirits to be real...Picsets are viewableHERE





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> So I might've gotten carried away...I hope you guys love it.
> 
> I have maxed out the rating, for reasons. This is just an excuse for Victorian, gothic smut.  
For the 200th time I don't consider myself a writer. This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

The heavy sound of his footfalls echoed in the halls as he made his way from the master’s chambers to the front door. He passed by gilded mirrors, portraits and ancient furniture that had been in the mansion for decades. Since before his parents had inherited the doomed architecture, the furniture had haunted its halls. 

Storming out the front door the cold sea breeze bit into his core and he closed his great coat tighter around himself as he pulled on his gloves and hat. With an unerring grimace he mounted his stallion and turned away from the grim estate. 

Back to town, he clenched his jaw and urged the destrier forward. Back to a city where men and women alike scurried away from him in fear. _Yes_, he would inwardly growl, _scurry away or the boogie man will eat your heart._ Spurring his mount faster he ate up the distance from his family’s ancient seat to the capitol, hating every hoofbeat that brought him closer. 

Soon the _ton_ would run from him once more, eyes full of tears as Lord Stannis Baratheon, the Duke of Storm’s End and the Keeper of Ghosts came for their souls. 

He couldn’t tell where it first began, the absurd stories surrounding his family’s home. Sometime after his grandmother had thrown her self from the Widow’s Walk, he supposed, her body crashing to the sea that had taken his grandfather a fortnight before. 

From their deaths onward, ships found their way to the jagged, rocky shores of Storm’s End, all of them coming there to rest forever. Shipbreaker Bay, they called it. A graveyard at sea. Ghosts would seek out Storm’s End, rumor said, to haunt their halls and curse the man who held its deed. 

It had all been reinforced, of course, as he and his brothers watched their parents die on the broken shore. Their was ship pulled beneath the waves with violent tides amidst pouring rain that drowned out the sorrows of the three young boys. 

After that Renly went away to live with distant cousins in the West and Robert rode North, abandoning his brothers and his duty. This left Stannis with the care of the house. A young boy of ten and six, surrounded by blackened halls filled with ghost stories and nightmares. 

It was no surprise that Stannis’ imposing form was always clad in sinister all black, his stoic, dour personality ever watchful from the edge of the crowd in society. He had been cursed, he felt, locked away under the burden of duty and forgotten by his only family. 

War had come and gone, claiming hundreds of thousands of lives and when he finally returned to Storm’s End, a broken man filled with horrors, he found its cold welcome comforting. Here, he decided, he would not have to pretend that war was filled with honor and glory. Here he could scream himself awake with nightmares of starvation and wildfire. Here he could die in peace. 

But fucking _King_ Robert would not allow it, it seemed. Overthrowing a monarchy and placing himself on the Iron Throne, Robert Baratheon had doomed Stannis with the cursed mansion and decreed that Stannis needed a wife, sons! The King’s own wife had only been able to bear him one son, and that son would inherit the Iron Throne, leaving Storm’s End to Stannis to populate. So now at forty he was forced to seek a wife.

Grimacing he crested the hill over the city and found himself, once more, on the outside of the world. 

“Little Dove?” the Queen’s voice reached her and Sansa quickly stifled her sobs and wiped her face as Cersei rounded the corner into the library. “There you are” her voice was saccharine sweet and just as venomous. “What is taking you so long?” 

“I am sorry, Your Grace,” she gave a dutiful curtsey. “I was just about to return, it took me a while to find the book you were looking for---ow!” Sansa’s words fell off in a cry as Cersei grabbed the skin of her inner elbow, twisting violently.

“Next time you hide from me, I will punish you, Little Dove” Cersei warned, her emerald eyes ice cold. 

“Cersei” Lord Tywin Lannister, the Great Lion, interjected as he stepped from the shadows of the hall. “Let her go” he ordered coolly and Cersei obeyed, throwing her arm to the side and sending Sansa stumbling into the table. “Go” Tywin nodded to Sansa and she all bun ran from the library. She did not stop until she was in her drafty attic room, covering her mouth with both hands to silence the sobs that poured from her body. 

Once they were under control she grabbed her shawl and moved to the window where she dropped to her knees, praying over and over. 

“Please” she whimpered, hiding her face. “Please…..I just want my family, I want to go home,” she sobbed. 

But there was no home. Not anymore. There was no North, no Winterfell and no Starks. There was nowhere for her except here, trapped in the Hell created by Cersei Lannister. Two moons ago the Bolton’s had marched through Winterfell, betraying her family on the order of Tywin Lannister. Before Sansa knew it everyone around her, everyone she loved was dead and gone. 

Lord Ramsay Bolton had dragged her to Lord Tywin in her nightgown, fingers locked around her throat. Throwing her at the Great Lion’s feet as a ‘gift’, he announced her a token of appreciation from the North. Tywin’s face was impassive as he ordered her dressed and put into his wagon. She had sobbed for hours, terrified that the Great Lion would come to her and rape her, take her and do horrible things to her before slitting her throat. 

She was almost ungrateful that the Gods had answered her prayers against it because instead it meant he carted her South and placed her in the hands of Queen Cersei until a marriage could be made for her. Purgatory, she decided. Hell before a new Hell began. She would be ten and eight soon and she didn’t want to think about what husband awaited her. 

Hoofbeats echoed in the courtyard and she rushed to the opposite window to see a dark rider and an even darker horse ride through the gates. The man, tall and imposing, looked like the Stranger himself as he dismounted, barking orders to the groomsmen who cowered in fear. She watched as he removed his gloves, long slender fingers gleaming in the moonlight. 

She gasped as his eyes shot up to hers, his dark glare locking her in place, “Please” she pleaded softly, reaching out to touch the glass over his form. “Take me with you” she pleaded with the man who looked so much like Death itself. 

She blinked and he was gone, vanishing inside the summer palace below and she felt his loss acutely. Sinking to the floor she cried softly until sleep took her and she could dream once more. 

“Who is the girl?” Stannis asked his brother plainly as they spoke the following morning. 

“Lady Sansa Stark” Robert drank deeply his ‘breakfast wine’. “Ned’s eldest.”

Stannis nearly choked on his tea, “You murder her family and then take her prisoner?” he glared deeply at his older brother. 

“Cersei is taking care of her---”

“And we’re well away of how Cersei 'cares' for things” Stannis cut him off. 

“The git should be grateful she’s alive and that Lord Tywin didn’t marry her straight away” Robert belched. 

“That is disgusting behavior, even for you” Stannis chided. “She is a Lady, why is she locked away in servants quarters?”

“Ask Cersei” Robert shrugged. 

Stannis abruptly set his tea on the table and stood, excusing himself from his brother’s presence. He had ridden hard through the day and arrived late last night, only the beautiful woman in the attic whispering pleas there to greet him. 

He had seen the misery in her face, even from the distance and it would haunt him as surely as any ghost. Striding to the library he stormed inside and a soft cry greeted him as a flurry of fabric ducked behind the pianoforte. 

“Hello?” he moved closer and turned to look down at the small form of Lady Sansa, arms over her head to protect herself. “Lady Sansa” he cautiously crouched and she peeked out from her protection. She was beautiful, he nearly gasped at the sight of her porcelain skin and fiery hair, the bright Tully blue eyes filled with relief as she looked at him. 

“Oh” she sighed softly. “I thought you were--" she trailed off, looking to the book in her hands. 

“You thought I was the Queen?” he ventured. 

“No!” she panicked. “No, please---”

“Lady Sansa” he soothed her, raising his hands in placation. “Be at ease, I cannot stand her either.”

“But” she paused. 

“No buts” he assured her. “I would have rather seen my brother marry a mole rat.”

At this her eyes sparkled and lips spread into a smile as she laughed, “You are the King’s brother then? Are you Lord Renly…?” 

He frowned at her confusion, he figured most in the _ton_ knew him on sight and surely he was no Renly. “I am Lord Stannis” he told her. 

“Oh,” she paused, then looked to the book in her hands once more and this time he saw the title. _A Study in the Paranormal_ the gilded letters said. “Are they….” she broke off, biting her lip. “Are they real?”

“Are what real?” he asked. 

“The Ghosts” she whispered, still looking at her book. 

“Lady Sansa---”

“If they’re real then they’re not really gone” she looked back at him and her eyes were filled with unimaginable pain and sadness. “If they’re not real then they’re lost to me forever” she pleaded. “Please, just tell me. They say you keep the ghosts, the dead, please tell me!” she crawled forward, kneeling before him as she begged. 

“I cannot say” he told her truthfully, taking her shoulders as she began to sob. 

“Please” she cried, hiding her face in her shawl. “Lie to me, just tell me they’re not gone forever!”

“You family is never lost” he spoke softly, his heart aching for this woman. “They will always be with you, in spirit or in memory. They are never lost” he promised her. She clung to his waistcoat, her body shaking with sobs as he suspected she grieved for the first time since the attacks on her family. 

And, for the first time in his life, Stannis held a woman in comfort, shocked that she was unafraid of him. 

That evening, as Stannis stood on the outskirts of Lady Tyrell’s ballroom, ignoring the stares and comments being made about his person, his mind was racing around his encounter with Lady Sansa. 

She was a prisoner here, there was no mistaking that fact, and she was thoroughly miserable. She had begged him to tell her of the Ghosts, of the lost souls at Storm’s End and he could only assure her that her family was never far from her heart. Hollow words to his own ears but she seemed to drink them in and it helped her tears to ebb. 

He wondered what sort of treatment she had experienced at Cersei’s hand to be so afraid of the Queen entering a room. He had seen her cowering, curled into a ball to be as small as possible and he knew that only the worst sort of abuse could garner such a reaction. Cersei was cold at best and he could not imagine the pain she would inflict on an orphaned girl. 

Robert’s comment about Lady Sansa being married to Lord Tywin, a man close to 75 years of age, made Stannis’ hackles rise. Of course, with Sansa Tywin would be able to control the North and the Lannisters were nothing if not power hungry. 

Surely she did not desire such a fate, in truth she looked as if she would rather die than live there another moment. He would speak with her, he decided, to see if he could help her in any way. His thoughts were derailed when Robert stood from his chair and stumbled, crashing heavily into the table beside the Queen. With a groan he went to assist in removing the drunken King from the party. 

Sansa watched from her window as the drunk King was unloaded from the carriage and the tall form of Lord Stannis emerged behind him, looking quite annoyed as he exchanged words with the Queen. A servant then approached the Duke of Storm’s End and she watched as he read the scroll handed to him and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

The front door slammed and loud echoes of an argument filled the hall, Lord Tywin, Sansa guessed, was yelling and lecturing his daughter on proper behavior. 

Sansa shrank into the shadows instinctively and made herself small, just in case the Queen decided to take her wrath out on her. Heavy footfalls filled the hall and then a knock came to her door.

“Lady Sansa--”

“Lord Stannis” she sighed and rushed to the door, opening it to see the tall, dark form of the Duke. 

“Lady Sansa, a fire at Storm’s End has called me away immediately” he advised her. “However, upon my return I would speak with you regarding your situation here and I would offer to help” he trailed off, glancing around the small, damp room. 

“Thank you, My Lord” she said softly, hope blossoming in her heart. “I wish you safe travels and I hope to see you soon.”

He gave a curt nod and was gone, her heart sinking as he footsteps faded. She ran to her window, watching as his destrier was lead in the courtyard and then he emerged from the house, great coat and hat in place as he pulled on his gloves. 

He looked up at her window then and she trailed her fingers over the glass, giving her best smile as he mounted and rode into the darkness. She smiled, if slightly, at the idea of his return. He was kind, gentle and his eyes shone with care. He was nothing at all like she had heard he would be. She had expected a dark, angry, cruel man who was surrounded by the Stranger, and while Stannis wore all black he was far from cold. 

The 'Keeper of Ghosts', they called him and she wished that it were true. That somehow her family wasn’t gone forever and she wasn’t alone. Frowning she moved from the window and to her small, lumpy bed. She had prayed for the Stranger and a tall, dark figure had appeared, only it had been Stannis Baratheon who had ridden to her side. 

Laying back on the cold pillow she lay awake into the night, praying that he would safely return. 

Stannis was glowering once more as he reached the Summer Palace. A fire near Storm’s End had summoned him away and he had only now been able to return. He had been gone two moons, working quickly with his tenants to restore the chapel and walls that were damaged in the blaze. 

While he was gone he had pondered writing Lady Sansa a letter, but he feared it would have been intercepted before it could reach her and then all chance of him helping her would be null. 

Instead, at the first opportunity he had ridden back to her. Riding into the courtyard he looked immediately to the attic window, frowning when he did not see her in the glass. Removing his hat he moved inside to hear laughter and music playing near the parlor. Handing his coat and hat to a servant he moved inside and his stomach dropped at what he saw. 

“Ah, Brother” Robert boomed upon seeing him. “You’re just in time, we’re toasting an engagement!”

“Engagement” his eyes went to Lady Sansa who stood beside Lord Tywin Lannister, impossibly thin, bordering skeletal, skin a sickly grey and her eyes dull. _What_ have then done, he raged inwardly. 

“Lady Sansa and I are to wed” Tywin glared across the room at him. “The banns have been read, in a fortnight she will be Lady Lannister.”

“Then I offer my felicitations” Stannis forced the words as Sansa stared blankly at the wall. 

At this he was pulled into the celebration, or what could be perceived as one if you ignored the bride-to-be. She looked as if death had come for her a sennight ago and she was simply going through the motions. 

Stannis accepted a glass of arbor gold but did not drink it, instead he stole glances at Lady Sansa who was soon swaying on her feet. Tywin dismissed her as he would any servant and she rushed away from the scene, unsteady on her feet. 

“Poor girl” Cersei frowned dramatically. “She has taken the shock well.”

“Shock?” Stannis asked coolly. “You murdered her family.”

“She will be a Duchess” Tywin corrected. 

“Indeed” Stannis stood. “A Duchess forced to bear the attentions and the children of the man who murdered her family.” 

“Stannis--”

“How dare you!” Cersei interrupted the King with her venomous voice. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I am weary from my travels” Stannis cut her off, standing and moving from the room. Blindly, he made his way to the guest quarters he had been allotted, his mind racing as he took in everything he had learned. 

He was forced to bide his time, wait until the house was asleep before he moved to the attic, knocking on Lady Sansa’s door. When no response came, he tried the latch and found it open and he cautiously pushed inside. 

“Lady Sansa” he moved forward and saw her unmoving and still clothed on the bed. Her room smelled of dust and dirt, the windows leaking and dampness hung in the air. She had only one other dress on the wardrobe hanger and a torn and dirty shawl hung across the edge of the bed. “Sansa” he moved to kneel before the bed and saw that she was awake and crying softly. 

“You didn’t come” she whispered without looking at him. “It’s too late.”

“No, it's not” he assured her. 

“He’s going to take me” she choked on a sob. “He’s going to rape me.”

“No, he won't” Stannis repeated. “Do you have anything here? Anything of any value?”

“Nothing, I have nothing,” she replied. “I am nothing” her voice was weak, exhausted. 

“Have they been feeding you?” he asked. 

“Broth” she replied. “But it tastes so horrid, I do not eat it.” 

“Gods” he stood abruptly, looking around the room. Quickly he grabbed her shawl and helped her to sit, wrapping it around her. 

“Just let me die, please” she asked. 

“No, then you’ll be just another ghost haunting me at the edge of the world” he leaned down and lifted her into his arms, her head lolling into his neck as he carried her. 

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly. 

“I am going to save you the only way I can” he replied as he descended the stairs. “We’ll ride to Gretna Green tonight.” 

“A forge wedding” she whispered and then went lax in his arms. He carried her out the door and upon summoning a groomsmen, demanded his horse. There was no way in the seven hells he was leaving her in this house, so he would give her the best protection he could, his name. 

When Sansa woke she felt the warmth against her cheek, seeping into her skin and soothing her. Forcing her eyes open she looked up into the stern face of the Duke of Storm’s End. Stannis, she thought to herself, vague memories of the previous night rushing back to her. It was nearly dawn she would guess by the light and soon the household would wake to find them gone. 

“You’re awake” he noted, holding her across his lap as he rode. “We’ll stop at an inn soon, you need a decent meal as quickly as possible but I cannot delay in getting to Scotland.”

“You came back” she noted lamely, her limbs feeling far too heavy for her body. 

“I did, though I am sorry it took so long,” he replied. 

“You came” she looked to the deep black of his cravat and jacket. “You came for me.”

“I did” he gave a gruff nod and continued riding. 

“We’re to be married?” she asked. 

“The best protection I can give you is my name” he assured her. “I will not force you to my bed, but I will also not let you be taken by the man who murdered your entire family. You are a Lady, Sansa Stark, and you have been abused horribly. It cannot stand.”

“I would go willingly to your bed” she told him, her cheeks flushed in the morning cold. “But I am so terribly tired.”

“Sleep” his deep voice instructed her. “I will wake you when we’re in Gretna Green.”

She closed her eyes once more, this time with a small seed of hope. He had come back to her, come back for her in a moment she thought she would surely die. Shortly after Lord Stannis’ departure, Queen Cersei began punishing her for every misdeed, giving her only a small cup of broth each day, but everytime she ate she felt sicker and sicker. Then when Queen Cersei found that Sansa’s dresses did not fit, she burned them and left her with an ugly servant’s gown. 

When Lord Tywin handed her a white muslin dress and ordered her to be in the drawing room that evening, she had been terrified, hands shaking as she dressed herself. She felt as if she were marching to her death and she wished she was when the Great Lion announced their betrothal. 

She did her best not to vomit onto the carpeting, her entire body growing cold as the last of her strength left her. Never would she marry this man, this monster who had betrayed her family and killed them all. 

_I want to die_ she told herself, wondering if the attic window was high enough to ensure death upon falling. 

But then, there he was, tall and dark, eyes wide as King Robert’s voice announced the celebration. She turned away from Lord Stannis, unable to meet his eyes. Instead she focused on the gilded trim on the wall, willing her heart to simply stop, to cease living. But it did not obey. 

Beneath her now the steady movement of the horse lulled her to sleep, the warmth of Lord Stannis’ body making it easy to slip into slumber once more. 

Lord Tywin Lannister paced the length of the study and back, his jaw clenching in fury as the servants searched the grounds for sighs of Lady Sansa or Lord Stannis. They were both missing and he knew damned good and well where they went. 

“My Lord” the valet, Pycelle, entered the study. “Lord Baratheon departed near midnight.”

“Midnight” Tywin looked to his pocket watch. Nearly ten hours, they were too late. “Bring Jaime to me. Now.”

“Yes, My Lord” Pycelle jumped and ran from the room, leaving Tywin to look out the window. 

The Dark Duke had stolen Sansa Stark from under his nose. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so angry. By now, if Stannis was smart, and he was, they would have been wed in Gretna Green and bound together forever. 

Stannis’ honor, however, would be his weakness. While he guessed there was no tendre there, Stannis would not force the girl to his bed. Smiling to himself Tywin began to calculate. He would give them a small portion of time and then he would ride to Storm’s End, a Silent Sister in tow and he would have their marriage annulled and take her back. He _would_ marry Sansa Stark. 

They had ridden hard, not stopping until they had spoken their vows, sharing a soft, brief kiss before they returned to the inn where a warm room and a large dinner that awaited them. 

Stannis kept Sansa close to his side, helping her to move through the village streets and to their room where she sank into the chair as her strength left her. He frowned deeply, this was not right, there was something wrong. 

“Lady Sansa” he knelt before the chair when her head dipped in weakness. “Sansa, look at me” he said harder and her unfocused eyes met his. “What did they feed you?”

“Broth” she struggled to swallow. “It tasted horrible and it made me sick..”

She had mentioned that before and it made his stomach sink. “Tasted horrible? Like what?” he was wracking his brain as she spoke. 

“Like metal” she frowned. “Metal knives in my stomach.”

“Gods” he grabbed her hand and looked closely at her fingernails, before leaning forward to smell her breath. Fury coursed through him at the sight of curved lines across the nail and the stench of her breath. “Arsenic” he stood and stripped his coat away and opened the door to call for a servant. 

“M’lord?” the young girl appeared in the doorway. 

“A bath, a hot one and when that’s over hearty food, enough for both of us” he glowered. The girl stared at Sansa’s weak form and Stannis ground his teeth, “My Lady wife has been poisoned, girl, I need your help!”

She jumped, “Yes, M’Lord” she bobbed a curtsey and took off running. 

“Poison?” Sansa whispered softly and his face turned back to Sansa. “The Queen…”

“The Queen” Stannis agreed. “Most likely when she learned that you were to be the Lady of Casterly Rock.”

“I wouldn’t have” Sansa said quietly, her eyes dark. “I would have killed myself before I let that man touch me.”

“That is no longer necessary” he moved back to her side as he spoke, kneeling once more to look up at her. Even ill she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “You are Lady Sansa Baratheon, Duchess of Storm’s End. You are not, and will never be, the Lady of Casterly Rock.”

Sansa opened her mouth to speak but before the words could escape a knock sounded at the door and the maid returned with the large copper bathtub, several more behind her with warm water. Stannis watched as they set and filled the tub, the steam filling the room as they moved away and left the newlyweds alone. 

“Bathing will help rid you of any toxins or arsenic clinging to your skin” he explained to her. 

“I will need help,” she whispered. “I cannot stand” she sighed heavily. “You are my husband, I trust you, Stannis.”

“Alright” he gave a brief nod before he stood, casting aside his jacket before returning to help her stand. Methodically, almost clinically, he helped her to shed her dress, stays and shift before he carried her to the bath, lowering her to the steaming water. He was diligent to ignore her porcelain nudity, not was not the time for lust.

“Gods” she sighed. “I haven’t had a warm bath in so long,” she sighed, leaning against the tub’s side, eyes falling closed in exhaustion.

Stannis gave her a soft smile, crouching beside her and bringing the pitcher up to soak her hair. Gently he scrubbed the long length of her fiery hair clean, washing away the suds with warm water as she sighed in happiness. An untraditional wedding night to be sure, but he was caring for her all the same. This woman, this beautiful and fiery woman was being broken down at the hand of the Lannisters and he would never allow that to happen again. Never. 

He was Stannis Baratheon, the Keeper of the Dead, and he would send every spirit of Storm’s End after those who would threaten his bride. 

Sansa smiled as she wandered the gardens of Storm’s End. Her hands traced across the petals of roses and rich leaves as she walked. She was home, she could have laughed as she moved through the greenery. _Home!_

Two moons ago she had arrived at Storm’s End with Stannis, her husband, and she had been in awe of the estate’s beauty. It was a castle, in every sense of the word. Stone towers reaching to the sky, the buttresses and stonework calling back to a previous world, one lost to the modern eye. It was beauty in its purest, haunted form. 

Where Stannis saw only darkness, she saw beauty and she loved every inch of her new home. She even adored the view from the mistress' chambers, a sweeping balcony that overlooked the dark shores and sprawling ocean beyond.

Under her husband’s caring hands she returned to health once more, her skin losing its grey pallor and her body regaining its curves, no longer rejecting food and nutrition. At the Keeper of Ghosts’ hand she grew healthy, happy once more. He had also seen to it that she had clothing, proper clothing and a ladies maid to help her. 

Today, Stannis had been called to the village and she was walking through the gardens, anxious for his return. But here, in the blooms she found peace. 

In their brief marriage she had grown attached to her husband, the stoic Lord Stannis. The man that the _ton_ thought cold was simply unsure, halting in his movements but once assured he was warm, caring and kind. He had cared for her as she recovered from the Queen’s poisoning, carrying her, dressing her, brushing her hair as they traveled quickly back to his estate. She had never known a man with such a caring hand and it had endeared him to her permanently. 

If he hadn’t been affixed to her heart before, he was now, and she could not bear to be parted from him. She had once prayed to the Gods to go home and in that very moment Stannis had appeared in the courtyard. The Gods had sent him to her, to protect her and carry her from danger. She was no fool, her husband was the best of men and he was her heart. Her truth. 

Beyond the exchange of their marriage vows, her husband had not kissed her or touched her romantically. He was reserved, unsure and she enjoyed being able to grow accustomed to his imposing physical presence. He would never push or force her and in turn she found she craved his touch. A hand at her back as she walked or an arm around her waist as he guided her to the table, she loved his attentions. 

Lord Tywin would come, she knew it in her soul. The Lannister’s would come and try to take her away. She was the last Stark, the key to the North and they wouldn’t let her go without a fight. She felt ill at the thought of them coming for her and she knew that if Stannis did not take her to wife, truly to wife, soon, then all would be lost. 

The heavy sound of hoofbeats filled the air and she smiled, rounding the house to see her husband ride up the drive on his black destrier. He looked impossibly imposing atop his mount, his stern face shadowed by his hat and great coat. 

She moved to his side as he dismounted and he pulled her into his embrace, holding her closely before he released her. 

“Stannis” she smiled, taking his arm. “Welcome home.” 

“Indeed” he placed his hand over hers on his arm as they moved inside. “You’re looking well, my dear” he assured her. 

“I am glad you’re home” she smiled as they entered the great mansion. “Come to the gardens with me, husband. Come” she pulled him to the roses she so loved. He gave her an indulgent expression and followed, sticking close to her side as they enjoyed a sunset surrounded by flowers. 

“Are you happy here?” he asked her softly as the sun descended beyond the foothills, casting an orange light around them. 

“Yes, more so than I can remember. There are no ghosts, but there is peace” she smiled up at her husband, moving into his embrace. His arms came around her, unsure at first and then a strong hand tunneled into her hair. “Stannis” she looked up at him. 

“Sansa” he cupped her cheek, smoothing hand through her riotous curls. In turn her hands moved to his shoulders, then one into the short crop of his silver and black hair. 

They did not speak, there were no words needed between them as his lips found hers. His arms wrapped around her and their kiss was soft, hesitant and then worshipping as they clung to each other in the gardens. 

Stannis felt his stomach drop at the contents of the letter, his worst fears coming to life. Choking he stood, moving away from the offending letter. He paced to the window and clenched his jaw. Lord Tywin Lannister was coming, he was riding to Storm’s End and he intended to take back Lady Sansa. His friend Ser Davos had heard the gossip in town and sought to warn him.

His stomach turned at the thought of his Sansa being taken from him. He had grown so attached to her in the moons since their marriage, he could not bear to be parted from her. Not now. Not ever. 

Storm’s End did not seem so dark with her at his side. Though she slept a doorway away his nightmares had miraculously abated and he knew that there was another soul in the house that understood his pain. She was the light to his darkness, the sunrise to his sunset. He needed her, and he didn’t need anything in this life. 

He was so focused on his letters that he didn’t hear her enter until she was placing the tray on his desk. 

“I brought tea and---” she trailed off, looking up at him. “Stannis, are you well?”

He swallowed thickly before he met her gaze, “He’s coming.”

She paled but did not flinch, “I will not go” she said resolutely. “I will die before I go!”

“Sansa---”

She cut him off. “Take me to wife. Now. _NOW!_” she jostled the tray so abruptly on his desk that tea spilled onto the silver. 

“Sansa---”

“No!” she cried out. “Stannis, please! Do not let him take me!” she pleaded. 

“I would never let them,” he said, his stomach a knot of nerves. “I don’t want to hurt you” he said sadly.

“I’d rather you hurt me than Tywin take me!” she pleaded. “Please” she rounded the desk to grab his shoulders. “Please don’t let them take me from you, I never want to leave! Please husband. Stannis” she was all but sobbing now. 

“Alright” he pulled her into the comfort of his embrace. “Alright, all will be well, I promise” he gathered her close and scooped her into his arms. 

“Husband” she clung to his neck as he carried her to the master’s chambers. 

Stannis set Sansa on her feet near the large bed in his rooms. She was nervous, looking up at her husband, but she was more than ready to be his and only his. His room was dominated by the large wooden bed, the dim light of the late afternoon coming through the sheer window coverings.

Since they were so secluded at the estate, she did not style her hair intricately or waste time with uncomfortable stays. Now she was especially grateful for that. Raising her hand to the messy pile of curls it was easily unpinned, hanging around her to her waist. 

“Your hair is beautiful” he said quietly into the room. He had seen it down many times, had even helped her to brush it when she was ill but this was the first time he had spoken of it and she smiled. 

“Husband” she reached a tentative hand to his black jacket, running her fingers over the material before she slipped them under the lapels. She felt the hard planes of his chest and shoulder and he helped her to slip the jacket away. 

Some would have found his large frame, clad in all black, intimidating but the sight to her was a comfort, just as he himself was a comfort to her. 

They did not speak as their hands worked to rid them of their clothing, her dress and shift falling away to leave her bare before him. He had seen her before, on their wedding night when he carried her to the bathtub but she had recovered since then, her curves coming back and she could tell by the dark blue of his eyes that he rather enjoyed what he saw. 

“You are--” he shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. “There are no words.”

“I am your wife” she moved closer. He was only in small clothes now, so she reached up to smooth her hands over his lean chest and the dusting of silver and black hair there. 

“You are _my_ wife” he said the words softly, as a prayer, pulling her into his arms. It was sinful, she gasped softly, to feel his body against her own. Once the idea of being taken by a man had terrified her, but in Stannis’ embrace she was not afraid. 

He leaned down to kiss her, softly at first and then his tongue parted her lips and delved deeper. She wrapped her arms around his torso, holding him tightly and savouring the play of muscles beneath her hands as he made love to her mouth. 

Her body felt overwarm, sensation racing through her to settle low in her belly. Then suddenly she was moving, lifted in his strong arms and their mouths parting as he carried her to the bed. A soft giggle of surprise escaped her mouth as she sank into the counterpane and in turn Stannis smiled as he joined her and stretched out on their sides he took her mouth once more. 

His hand wandered her flesh then, ghosting across her shoulder and arm before settling on her waist where he gripped the curve of her hip for a brief moment. She could feel the hard length of him against her belly as he pulled her tightly against him. She knew the bare basics of coupling, but not much beyond that, but she could tell that her husband desired her and it made her feel powerful, beautiful. 

He released her hip and then his hand was at her breasts, taking their weight in his hand, thumb teasing the peak. She gasped against his mouth at the feeling, pleasure shooting through her. 

“Beautiful” her husband whispered as she mewled softly, arching to his touch. 

“Stannis” she pleaded, but for what she did not know. 

“Lay back” he guided her and hovered partially over her from his side beside her. She watched as he leaned down to pull her breast into his mouth, sucking the flesh before he released it to suckle the nipple. 

“Stannis” she gasped. His hand slid down her body to her core, finding her folds and parting them easily to find her soaked. She was surprised at first and then she cried out as he toyed with her, circling a part of her that made it impossible to think. Never had she imagined such pleasure could come from her husband’s touch.

One of her hands grasped the fabric beneath her and the other clung to his arm as he watched her. She anchored herself to him, trying desperately to breathe. What was he doing to her? 

“Beautiful” he whispered, releasing her breast. She felt her body lose itself and shatter, her cry filled the room as pleasure consumed her. Her heart was pounding in her ears, blood thick as she clung to her husband. “You are stunning” he laved her nipple once more as she felt one of his fingers delve shallowly inside of her. 

She was embarrassingly wet, allowing him to slide inside easily. It felt odd at first, but not painful. When he added a second finger she gasped softly and he suckled her breast as he gently moved his fingers in and out of her. His thumb worked the sensitive point he had teased before and every second was more pleasurable than the one before. 

“I could watch you forever” he moved from her breast to claim her lips, kissing her deeply as he teased her. It was overwhelming, his heated kisses, the slide of his fingers moving just inside of her and the long length of his body pressed against her. She could feel his arousal as he rocked beside her but soon her mind was too lost in pleasure to care. She broke the kiss to cry out as her peak crested once more, this time pulsing around his fingers. 

“Gods” she panted, returning to herself to watch as he pulled his fingers from her to discard his small clothes. She marvelled at the thick, angry length of him, jutting proudly from black curls. He stoked the flesh briefly and she noticed the weeping tip. 

“I need you” he moved over her, settling into the cradle of her body. “I am so sorry it will hurt, but I need to be inside of you---I just need you” he braced himself on an elbow and guiding himself to her core. 

“Husband” she instinctively soothed the wildness in his eyes and wrapped her arms around his back. “Come into me” she whispered. She felt him at her folds and then he was pushing inside, slowly as her body stretched around him. He was much bigger than his fingers and she felt the intrusion acutely. His eyes fluttered shut as he moved but then opened and settled on hers. 

“You’re _my_ wife” he promised her and sank into her fully. She cried out as she felt the stretch, then tear of her maiden’s gift and then she was impaled on her husband, so deliciously full. 

Stannis was certain that he had never seen anything more beautiful than his wife. Her porcelain nudity, the soft pink of her nipples and the dip and curve of her waist and hip that he had stupidly assumed was from her stays. But his wife had no need of them, she was stunning. 

He could have pleasured her for hours, watched as she writhed in pleasure but he was desperate to be inside of her, to feel the wet warmth of her around his cock as he had on his fingers. He had closed his eyes in pleasure as he moved but opened them, wanting to watch as he made her his.

She cried out as he filled her, but she shed no tears. He guided her legs around him, allowing him just deep enough to press against her womb. He had never felt both peace and pleasure in such measures, surrounded by his wife, buried in her. It was as if the ghosts in his mind had faded away, taking the darkness with it. 

In their absence a new wave of possessiveness filled him. This woman who had once looked at the world with such sadness now looked up at him with eyes glazed in pleasure and trust. She was _his_ now in every way and he would never stop cherishing her. 

“Stannis” she whispered, kissing him softly. “Make love to me” she asked and before his brain registered the words his body obeyed. Hips rocking gently, he ran a hand over her thigh, holding her close as he moved. 

She whimpered softly at first, the clench of her body on his cock was almost too much to bear. It was fortunate she was soaked, helping the movements to glide. He tried to be as gentle as possible, fighting back the urge to fuck her roughly, claim her as his, but she felt so damn good he had to clench his jaw tightly to fight it back. 

“Oh,” she sighed, this time in pleasure as her hips tilted to meet his. He swallowed a groan, taking her movement as an invitation and this time he slid nearly all the way out before sliding home once more. “Stannis” she gasped, wide blue eyes watching him in wonder. 

“You feel so good” he kissed her briefly, setting a deep rhythm, taking her achingly slow. 

“I can feel you” she marvelled. “I feel so full,” she sighed. 

“You are” he pushed deep. “My wife, filled with my cock” he groaned against her mouth as she kissed him deeply. He wasn’t going to last, not this time, not with her kissing him like a siren and her body gripping his like a velvet fist. 

Later, he silently promised her, later he would give her more pleasure but in this moment he couldn’t help but be selfish.

“Stannis” she gasped and arched against him as his hips snapped faster, their flesh slapping together. “Stannis” she bit her lower lip as she watched him lose himself. 

“Gods” he all but snarled as he felt it closing in on him. 

“Husband” she wiped the sweat from his brow as she clung to him. “Give me your seed” she whispered. “Give me a baby” she pleaded and he felt his control snap. Rutting into her with abandoned he came quickly, holding himself deep within her, against her womb, he came. The edges of his vision went dark as pleasure coursed through him, holding him frozen yet trembling above her. He jetted seed for what felt like an eternity before he collapsed over her.

He worried his weight was too much but she held him tightly with her arms and legs, nuzzling his neck as he panted for breath. 

“_My_ Stannis” she said softly with a sigh of contentment. 

Sansa watched her husband sleep beside her, his stern face relaxed in peaceful slumber. They had retired to his room in the afternoon and had not emerged since. He had called for a small dinner tray to be brought up and they ate in bed, uncaring of their nudity. She rather liked the sight of her husband’s long, lean body in the sunset. After they had eaten they made love once more and then turned to each other several times during the night. 

She was his wife now, truly and thoroughly. She felt the echoing ache of him between her legs, felt the soreness in muscles she didn’t realize she had. Here in his ancient wooden bed they had come together and now she would never have to be parted from him. She would never allow herself to be parted from him. As surely as he was her heart, he was her love as well. 

When they woke for the day she would call for a bath, she decided. Together they could relax and clean each other and perhaps she could entice him to take her once more before they started their day. 

She hadn’t known that such pleasure awaited her in the marriage bed, though she was certain that it had more to do with the fact that it was Stannis taking her than anything else. Her proud, aloof man who sent many cowering in fear was a gentle and caring lover. He had given her so much pleasure that she now could say her preferred to peak with him inside of her, her body felt so much more satisfied as it milked his own, holding him inside of her. 

Inside, she felt her cheeks heat, glancing to where the sheets were dangerously low on his stomach and she could see the top of his dark curls. His cock had looked so angry when she first saw it, swollen and powerful but as they had eaten it was soft and lax against his thigh making it hard to believe that it could fill her so completely. And oh it did.

Snuggling close to his side she smiled when his arm moved around her, even though he did not wake. She laid her cheek on his chest and let the warmth of his body lull her back into slumber. 

Sansa was drawing in the courtyard garden when the sound of horses came. Fear had her heart racing and she turned to see the tall form of Lord Tywin on a great white horse, Ser Jaime and another older woman at his back as he rode up the drive. 

She had known they were coming, but still the sight terrified her. Smugly she smiled, ‘you’re too late’ she thought. 

Setting her pencil in her sketchbook she closed it and slowly stood, the movement drawing Lord Tywin’s gaze, his emerald stare cutting through her. He reined his mount to a stop, watching her as she moved through the blooms and to the path. She would not show fear, not to this monster who destroyed her family. 

“Lady Sansa,” the Great Lion’s voice was sharp but not cold, his lips twitching in a smirk as he boldly looked over her person. “You’re looking well, quite healthy.”

“Lord Tywin” she replied coolly. “Welcome to Storm’s End, I would ask that you call me 'Lady Baratheon'.”

“Indeed” Tywin smoothly dismounted and handed his reins to a waiting groom. 

“I know why you’re here,” she stated. “You should leave now. I will not be going back with you.”

“Is that right?” he chuckled, removing his gloves as he stalked toward her. 

“That’s right” Stannis deep voice filled the courtyard as he emerged from the front door. Wordlessly he looked to Sansa and with her soft smile she assured him that she was well. She moved to her husband’s side gladly, taking his hand in hers. “Sansa is my wife, she is no longer yours or my brother’s concern.”

“Then you will not mind if I have a Silent Sister inspect her” Tywin motioned to the older woman who had since dismounted and was moving their way. 

“There is no need for inspection” Stannis replied smoothly. “We are wed, in _every_ way.”

Tywin grimaced but was not deterred, “I do not believe you, Lord Stannis. You’re a cold man, honorable and with no passion. You would not take her---”

“Come” Sansa’s voice broke into the Lion’s ranting. She looked to the Silent Sister and stepped from Stannis’ side. 

“Sansa” he frowned. 

“It’s alright” she smiled. She knew that nothing short of the Sister’s word would deter Lord Tywin and she would submit herself to this humiliation as long as it meant staying at her husband’s side. She steeled her shoulders and turned to the Sister, both of them vanishing into the house. 

“Gentlemen” Stannis turned to Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime. “We can wait in the solar.”

He led them inside, the butler seeing to their hats and coats before they moved into the front room. While as dark as the rest of the house, this room was filled with light from the stained glass windows, colors dancing across the dark walls. 

Stannis frowned across the solar at Lord Tywin who took a seat on a wingback chair, Ser Jaime standing guard over his father. 

“I am curious” Tywin’s voice broke their silence. “Why?”

“Why?” Stannis asked. 

“Why her?” Tywin explained. “You came to town to find a wife and you took mine. Why?”

“Watching her wither under your family’s _care_ was more than I could bear” Stannis stated plainly. 

“She was well cared for--”

“You’re certainly not the man I took you for” Stannis cut him off. “Blind to the world closest to you.”

“I am--” Tywin looked to the Silent Sister as she entered, Sansa behind her. Stannis held out to his wife and she moved to his side by the window, taking his hand. 

“She is not a maid, m’lord. Her barrier has been taken, there can be no annulment” the Sister spoke softly and Tywin’s eyes snapped to Sansa, fire in the green. 

“You surprise me, Lord Baratheon” Tywin hissed. 

“As I said, watching her under your family’s care was more than I could allow, more than honor would allow” Stannis repeated. 

“So you stole her and rutted into her, and that somehow makes you better than me?” Tywin stood. 

“I would never have been your wife, Lord Tywin” Sansa spoke calmly, sadly. “If the poison did not kill me, I would have handled it myself before you could wed me.” 

“Poison?” Tywin’s eyes narrowed. 

“Arsenic” Stannis explained and Ser Jaime paled. “Sansa was being slowly poisoned over a moon’s time. Her broth the culprit. Did you think her declining health was merely from grief?”

“No one would dare,” Tywin glared. 

“Cersei would and Cersei did” Sansa looked to Jaime. “I am right, aren’t I?”

“Jaime” Tywin turned to his son. 

“She was drunk, angry, I didn’t think she would actually do it,” Jaime reasoned. 

“I would never have made it to the wedding, Lord Tywin” Sansa added. “She would have killed me before she would let us wed.”

“Gods” Tywin shook his head. 

“You can ask the maids at the Wolfhound Inn in Gretna Green,” Stannis stated. “We were there nearly a sennight after we wed while Sansa recovered.”

“You murdered everyone I loved” Sansa told Tywin, her voice firm but he could feel the tremble in her hand. “I will never allowed you to touch me. I am wedded, bedded and I love my husband. Not even death will pull me from his side, my soul will remain in Storm’s End for eternity.”

Stannis’ breath rushed from his body at her declaration and it took everything he had to control his expression. She had said she loved him, _him_...Gods, he felt faint, actually faint. 

“I see” Tywin turned to his son. “We’re leaving, now.”

Stannis did not follow as the Lannisters and their Silent Sister strode from the room. Instead he stood frozen, looking into the beautiful face of his wife as she turned to smile shyly at him.

“I didn’t mean to say it that way,” she explained. “Not the first time, anyway.”

“It’s true then?” he whispered. 

“It is” she took his gloved hand in hers and placed it over her heart. “This is yours, Stannis Baratheon, as I am yours. For all of my days.”

He took her free hand in his and placed it over his heart, “As this is yours, Sansa Baratheon. It has always and will always be yours.” 

“I think” she moved closer, her fingers flexing over his heart. “That you should take me to bed, husband. No more ghosts, we’ll fill the house with children.”

“What a lovely idea” he couldn’t have stopped the laughter if he tried, in this moment he was too damned happy. He lifted her into his arms and carried her from the solar, her laughter filling the mansion’s dark halls with light. 

Once, riding through the iron gates of Storm’s End would have made him cringe, made him wish he was anywhere but here, now he longed to be home any time he was called away. _Home_ he mused. With her, with his wife, it had become a real home.

He was a man who had grown accustomed to solitude and had resigned himself to live in it forever. Sansa and her hope for ghosts had changed everything. 

Riding back through the gates from helping one of his tenants, he smiled at the sight that greeted him. His wife and daughters, were dancing on the lawns, their white gowns and fiery hair trailing behind them as they moved, looking decidedly like nymphs as they laughed. In the shade of a great tree beside them on a large quilt was his son, Steffon, laughing wildly as he watched. 

Less than a year after Sansa became his true wife she gave birth to a daughter, Cassana, who was nearly every inch the image of her mother, though her eyes were Stannis’ dark blue. Though Sansa had apologized for not giving him a son, he would not hear of it. Cassana was his precious girl, his princess, and then when Catya arrived a year later looking exactly the same as her sister, he knew that he would have his hands full with such beautiful girls. 

Now at 6 and 5 they were showing signs that they would be as beautiful as their mother and he was loath that one day he would have to hand them to a husband. Surely there was no man who could deserve them. 

They had waited a few years before trying for another and then suddenly there was Steffon, a big, healthy Baratheon boy and the image of his father. His heir, Stannis had held his son for the first time, his daughters climbing over his shoulders to see and he realized that settling for solitude would have killed him. This, his family was his life.

Steffon was nearly 2 now and already Stannis’ little sidekick. So it was no surprise as Stannis dismounted and handed his horse to a groom he turned to see Steffon running towards him. 

“Father!” he laughed as Stannis picked him up and raised him high into the air before carrying him over to the blanket. As he sat on the blanket near the basket of food his girls joined him, laughing as they piled on him to greet him. 

“Try not to smother your Father, loves” Sansa laughed as she sat beside them, pulling Catya into her lap. “Now we can eat” she kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I told you he would not be gone long.”

“I am so terribly hungry” Cassana sighed dramatically, pretending to faint across the blanket.

Stannis smiled and shook his head, “Dearest princess, come eat” he beckoned and she sat up and helped Sansa to bring out the food. 

Stannis watched his wife, who had only grown more lovely with time, her white dress pulled tight across her stomach as she moved and he smiled at the slight swell there. Another son or daughter, he could not wait to meet them. 

While the last of his hair had gone silver in the seven years since they wed, she hadn't aged a day. Motherhood only served to make her more stunning and he thanked the Gods everyday for leading him to her. Tywin Lannister never returned to Storm’s End, thankfully, he had gone back to the capitol to deal with his unruly daughter. 

While Stannis had not seen Robert in seven years, Renly often visited the estate, usually near the Yule holiday to spoil his nieces and nephews. It had amused Renly greatly to see Stannis surrounded by children, as he had never imagined his older brother would marry. 

Stannis looked to Steffon as the boy took a bite of the cheese he had picked up before moving it to Stannis’ own mouth. He laughed, taking a noisy bite that had his kids laughing. 

“Manners, Your Grace” Sansa smirked at him and he gave her a look that promised he would show her manners as soon as he had her alone. Sansa smiled demurely, helping Catya to wipe her face before her hand went to her stomach, smoothing it briefly before she returned to her lunch. 

“There’s a storm coming” Stannis wrapped his arms around Sansa from behind, holding her to his chest. He had just looked in on the children, ensuring they were sleeping through the hard rain and found her in the large glass balcony doors, watching the rain fall over the sea. As always she leaned to his strength, relaxing against her husband’s strong chest. 

“I love watching the storms here” she said quietly. “The lightning over the ocean is beautiful.”

“I used to think it bleak” he admitted softly. “Haunting.”

“And now?”

“Now I love to make love to my wife during these storms” he kissed her neck and shoulder and she sighed softly. “To find passion in the storm.”

“Such passion I blame for Catya’s arrival” she laughed softly. 

“Perhaps” he agreed, a hand traveling to untie her robe and to part the fabric. She was naked beneath it and his hand smoothed over the small swell of her stomach. “You are a goddess.”

“I love being pregnant” she smiled. “I love feeling them grow.” 

“I envy you that” he nuzzled the soft skin beneath her ear. “You can feel them coming to life, I must wait until they’re here to hold them.”

“And when they’re here you never put them down, you spoil them” she laughed, a laugh that turned into a sigh as his hand moved up to cup her breast. They had grown steadily larger with each child and she no longer had the figure of a young woman but a mother thrice, nearly four times over. Stannis certainly did not seem to mind. 

“I will spoil my children as I please” he ran his hands over her body freely, teasing her until she was rubbing her ass against him, silently begging for more. 

“Stannis Baratheon, Keeper of Ghosts and Spoiler of his Children” she laughed as he lifted her and carried her to bed. 

“Hush wife” he did away with their clothes before they fell to the counterpane, lips meeting. Stannis was careful to hold himself over her as he settled above her, kissing her deeply and drinking her soft cries as he stroked her silken skin. 

“If I remember” she pushed him to his back and climbed astride him. “I need to remind my husband of his manners.”

“Hang manners” he scoffed. 

“Such a noisy eater” she stroked his chest. His eyes were impossibly dark and in a flash he was moving her, guiding her hips over his body to settle atop his face. “Stannis!” she gasped as he buried his face in her folds, noisily devouring her from below. Careful not to crush him she rocked with pleasure against his face, his large hands stroking her breasts as he worked her. 

He knew just how to lap and lick at her and soon she was coming with a muffled scream. Taking advantage of her lax body he rolled her back to the bed and slid deep inside of her still-shaking core. 

“Gods, wife” he groaned at the feel of her around him. 

She mewled in pleasure, her hands roaming over his shoulders to his bare back. “Make love to me” she pleaded and he moved, snapping his hips against hers, filling her over and over. Sansa could only hold on to him, lost in the lust coursing through her and the feel of her husband within her. 

As the storm raged beyond their windows, lightning flashing across the distance, her husband took her, deeply, roughly, until she was crying out beneath him, body shaking as her core clenched around him. She felt his hand grip her thigh tightly, holding her to him as he growled his pleasure, spilling into her. 

“I love you,” she whispered, kissing him softly as he moved to the bed beside her. 

“I love you,” he pulled her close, smoothing her hair from her face. “Always, my darling wife.” 

They lay together atop the counterpane for a while in silence, sated once more and listening as the storm continued to batter the ancient mansion. They were both quickly succumbing to exhaustion but as Stannis turned to blow out the candle, thunder shook the walls and lightning flashed just beyond the window. 

He cursed, diving from bed to grab his small clothes, tossing Sansa her nightgown they were barely in their night clothes and diving under the blankets when the door to the bedroom sprung open and three sets of feet ran to the bed. 

“Come now” Sansa soothed their children, especially Catya who crawled to her lap. “It is just a storm.” 

“Its scary” Catya said against Sansa’s shoulder. 

Steffon made his way directly to Stannis, crawling into his arms and snuggling close. 

“Alright,” Stannis pulled the covers back and the girls crawled in between their parents, Steffon sticking to laying on Stannis’ chest. 

“There we are” Sansa tucked them in and lay on her side smoothing their fiery curls. “Sleep now, my darlings” she looked to Stannis who was rubbing Steffon’s back softly. Her handsome husband, loving father and the man who saved her from darkness. 

He looked back at her with love-filled eyes as thunder rumbled once more and the children whimpered. Sansa smiled and hummed softly, soothing them into slumber, all the while marvelling at the beautiful family they had made. 

There were no ghosts in Storm’s End, not like she’d hoped to find. But in their absence she found her place, her home and her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
@the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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